


little black heart

by forest



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! ARC-V
Genre: Abusive Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-15
Updated: 2016-05-15
Packaged: 2018-06-08 15:50:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6861592
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/forest/pseuds/forest
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>yuri has yuya under his thumb, controlled, corrupted. this is the way things have to stay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	little black heart

**Author's Note:**

> i originally wrote this for my twitter and idk at the time i didn't feel like using capitalization so i didn't. i didn't feel like reformatting it for posting on AO3, so yeah. all lowercase. hope this doesn't bother anyone. anyways this was based on a thread my qpp made on twitter where yuri drags yuya down to his level of horrible and disgusting, isolating him from his friends and keeping him for himself.

the wood paneling beneath yuri’s feet is cold. it sends signals to the rest of his body and he searches the room for his cure, scowling when it can’t be found.

where did he go?

look at him, scrambling like an addict. at least when things hadn’t come so far he was so relaxed, composed. maybe that’s what drew yuya to him in the first place, his controlled nature. all of that filth was merely bubbling beneath the surface. now he was as wild as that matted unwashed mess of hair upon his head. it did not bubble but it frothed forward. it was ugly but they’d been that way. it was forgivable when they were both monsters wearing flesh suits, cut from the same cloth.

so ungraceful when he slid down the hall. his hands could catch the walls and his eyes could scour the halls but no sign of his little pet dragon-- his little twin dragon. where oh where had he gone?

this wasn’t right. things were perfect-- he’d _made_ them this way. he’d _engineered_ perfect and it was in his hands a day ago. this was not on schedule. he did _not_ leave the bed until they’d both gotten up. where could he--

yuya sat on his knees, nothing unlike the first moment he’d went and gotten himself broken. in his hands lie a photo he’d surely burned. if not then yuri should have. those… friends of his. just the thought of them made yuri’s stomach churn like a tornado. he wanted to spit bile, venom, like a snake and watch it fade away in yuya’s fingertips. a yuri from months past may have asked curiously, keeping that hurt tucked deep down inside knowing it’d do him no good. but now he’d went and gotten himself spoilt-- drunk on his touch!

he wanted what he wanted when he wanted it, _now._

“what business do you have digging up old trash?”

no immediate response? who the fuck did yuya think he was talking to?

or… not, talking to.

“yuya--!”

“i miss them.”

such a fragile, soft response. yuri doesn’t know why it strikes a chord with him or why his sudden anger is dulled in its presence, but it is; like a towel being tossed over a lamp shade. he thinks to himself that it must be because he loves him. not that his love is the same as anyone else's. its a need, a biological one. yuya fits the bill. that’s all.

he cocks a hip and says, “well i’m sure they miss you too, wherever they are.”

yuri doesn’t know if he believes in a heaven or a hell, or in his own patience, but the fact that he’s managed to somehow calm himself down momentarily means there’s hope-- enough for them both. whatever yuri is about to say though as he takes another step forward is cut straight from his tongue as yuya bites back a cry and screams, “i don’t want to do this anymore.”

...what does that even mean?

no, really. yuri asks this and it seems his puzzlement only drives yuya further into his maddening stream of tears (god, how he hadn’t missed that at all).

“i want them back. they’re all gone and it’s my fault. its _your_ fault,” he corrects instantly, directly placing due blame with his partner as his head dangles on the precipice of his neck perpendicular to the floor.

that charismatic part of yuri hasn’t been completely forgotten. there’s a will o the wisp of a smile ghosting across his lips as he tilts his head, his saunter back in those footsteps as he approaches his ‘lover’ carefully.

“it’s _our_ fault. don’t go and regret it now. it’s already done.”

while the first sentence lulls on seductively, the last two sentences are so curt and upbeat. it’s that dissonance with human life that yuya can’t take anymore. oh whatever murderous impulses lurk inside of him they only have one place to be aimed at now, and yuri is standing _far_ too close to him.

“if this is all you’re upset about i can go ahead and toss out that picture--”

yuri reaches for the photo and yuya’s hand is like a bullet. it sears through his flesh when it makes contact with his skin. it smacks him away and too much like a wounded kitten, he detracts the arm into his chest and watches as yuya stumbles to his feet to face him. those eyes, glittering with so much hatred have never been more beautiful. this isn’t the first time they’ve had these spats. it won’t be the last. yuri isn’t convinced by his display.

“don’t be a child,” he spits.

“i… i couldn’t be one,” yuya utters, his eyes searching his arms, his hands for a single ounce of innocence and nearly guffawing at the fact that none could be found.

it’s a lonely laughter like no one’s in the room. yuri doesn’t exist and he’s alone with his tragedy. his eyes are focusing deeper into that photograph now and he realizes he can’t remember that type of happiness for as long as he’s been here.

in the midst of his silent soliloquy, yuri has lost what patience he did have.

“come on already. haven’t we been over this before?” he barks before realizing he’s lost all touch.

his voice sweetens like strawberries the next time he opens his mouth.

“you and i were made this way. it isn’t your fault anymore than it is mine.”

these words break through to yuya but all he can do is shake his head from side to side with anguish.

“i don’t believe that. that can’t be the way that things are. i just--”

“they’ve been this way for months now. what is with this sudden change, yuya? don’t you love me?”

yuri doesn’t even notice how heartless that came out-- the lack of emotion when he asks that question. there’s no passion in it, only annoyance. how annoying would it be if yuya just didn’t love him. how aggravating. not heartbreaking. not terrifying that the one you care for doesn’t feel the same. just… _enough to piss him off._

yuya doesn’t have an answer for that.

“it doesn’t matter. i’m not… my conscience is eating me alive inside, yuri. if we were made to be this way then i don’t want to…”

with the way he trails off, yuri knows what he’s about to say and the thought makes his heart race.

_live?_

_please, tell me that you don’t want to live. neither do i. it’s a pitiful fucking existence. why don’t we both just end it? it’d be perfect and glorious. we could stare into each other's eyes until our pupils become the forever. it can be beautiful and nasty._

trying to be happy with yuya is almost equally as frustrating as it must be on the other end if it’s driven him this far. why couldn’t yuya _just_ stay broken? why was there always the need to persevere and remain a slave to that… fucking shit of a conscience!

yuri is feeling himself slip farther and farther before he can even get a word in edgewise.

“i don’t want to be here… with you. anymore,” yuya says, his sobs slowing and his voice gaining conviction.

now that, is the funniest concept yuri has heard but even he can’t find the laughter in him presently. all he does is grin strangely.

“you can leave then.”

he’ll always come back. yuya never knows what to do with himself without yuri. they’ve become somewhat of a fucked up yin and yang now haven’t they? their bones are too connected now. tearing himself away from him will kill him and most importantly do harm to them both. he won’t. he wouldn’t dare. besides, even if he doesn’t want to be here with yuri, yuri is confident that he still cares about him. knowing it would hurt him, yuya will stay put like a good little pet. it’s what he’s always done.

_being a fucking doormat is what he’s always been good at._

“i’m going then.”

it's a surreal moment when yuri’s eyes float to the other side of the room, connecting with the fireplace where he sees yuya has rested some suitcases of his own.

there was planning involved. yuri’s breath hitches. something about this is especially frightening. this doesn’t feel like every other time before. yuya’s body stumbles wearily but with a jerk in his step. there’s a fire in his blood when he yanks the zipper from the front of his luggage and stuffs the photo inside. there’s no looking over his shoulder, not even the fear that yuri may try and stop him.

it’s…

it’s not right.

“you’re stupid.”

how eloquent, but it’s the only thing that comes out. he laughs.

“where could you go? where could a monster like you possibly find asylum? do you think that anyone out there can give you what you need?”

yuya isn’t listening.

“do you think that anyone out there could _possibly_ give me what _i need!?”_

the facade falls and all that’s brimming out of yuri is raw emotion.

the boy’s shoulders stiffen, visibly affected by this. yuri takes notice so readily knowing he’s going to have to milk every bit of these tears in order to make him stay. yuya’s chin slides over his shoulder with his frown made up and his eyes so sorry.

“no, i don’t.”

yuri knows his heart has snapped.

“who else could love someone like you but me? who else!? _who else could love you now!?”_

his best efforts at tearing yuya down with him, down enough to drown them both once and for all are in vain. yuya tearfully grips his bags, his heart lumbering as he bellows angrily.

**“i will.”**

the divide that stretched between them widens astronomically. yuri stands stupefied with each cheek a wet, reddened mess. his fingers are clawing at nothing and he’s not sure what he has left. its at this moment that whatever remained of his little black heart falls into the deepest crevice in his chest and his voice cracks like nails on a chalkboard.

“don’t leave me.”

a door slams shut.


End file.
